


homeroom angel

by jackpack



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Porn Magazines, i love that that's a tag i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 00:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21290519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackpack/pseuds/jackpack
Summary: Richie’s not looking for it, but, here the fuck it was, skipping floors two through two hundred on the Wonkavtor and busting through the top of Richie’s head, staring back at him from the page of the magazine he’d picked up.Eddie.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 16
Kudos: 695





	homeroom angel

**Author's Note:**

> i listened to "centerfold" by the j. geils band one (1) too many times today and this happened. thank u to migz (@eddiekissbrak) for betaing and cheerleading me through this journey.

Richie’s not  _ looking  _ for it.

Of course Richie’s not fucking looking for it, though; to look for it, he’d have to have had any idea that it  _ existed _ , and the idea of Eddie doing anything like this was beyond unfathomable. It was a whole other level of  _ this could never happen _ that even Richie fantasies couldn’t have predicted it- and he’d had some pretty wild ones. 

But. Here the fuck it was, skipping floors two through two hundred on the Wonkavtor and busting through the top of Richie’s head, staring back at him from the page of the magazine he’d picked up. 

Eddie. 

It’d been- there were so many fucking steps, really, to them even getting here in the first place. Richie had to have found this fucking magazine when he was in colleg- not this issue, god, not  _ this _ issue; if Richie had picked up  _ this  _ fucking issue in college, he was sure his mind would’ve exploded. But, he had to pick up this  _ magazine _ in the first place in college, furtive, snatching it off the rack at the drugstore and not bothering to pay because  _ holy shit _ , he couldn’t stand the idea of looking the dude in the counter in the eye and  _ paying  _ for a porno magazine that shouted  _ Boys! Boys! Boys! _

So. He had to pick up this magazine, and then, in a drunken fit just after his first few paid shows, he had to buy a  _ subscription _ to this magazine- fake name, correct address- meticulously updated every time he moved so that it could be delivered right to his door packaged in a discreet envelope, and occasionally shoved into the bottom of his suitcase while he was on the road, because he liked to have the company of Mr. January 2016 on cold nights in decent hotel rooms. 

And, then, he had to be subscribed at  _ just  _ the right time, because he’d really been about to cancel his subscription  _ entirely _ when the throwback issue came out. It was getting fucking dangerous, having his porn hand delivered to him like some kind of creepy old man, when Eddie had just moved in after trekking out to LA as a part of his post-Derry, post-divorce midlife crisis. There’d been an incident last month when Eddie’s found mail with the fake name that had lead to Richie having to sneak back out to the mailbox in the dead of night to do some recon before Eddie’s neat little “return to sender; does not live at this address” got his jerk-off material for the month taken away. It was the modern era; he should just make the jump and start going digital, anyway. 

So. Petty theft, years of furtively waiting for his monthly fix of scantily clad men to arrive via the US Postal service, and someone somewhere’s visonary idea of “let’s just reuse some fucking old pictures this time; these dipshits’ll crank it to anything, I’m sure” culminated to this: 

Eddie. 

Not Eddie, now- obviously, not Eddie, now. That’d be fucking insane, and Richie would be losing more of his mind than he’d already lost. He’d just been flipping through the issue, admiring this and that, and- he’d almost skipped the pages on his first thumb-through, absentminded and half hard, free hand resting on his leg, when he saw the flash of a leg and flipped back.

And then, there was Eddie. 

Younger- a few decades younger, the little white Times New Roman in the corner told him;  _ Eddie, November 1999. _ November, Eddie’s birth month- happy fucking birthday to  _ him _ . He only caught it the  _ second _ time he looked at the picture, flipping the page and then flipping back to make sure his mind wasn’t just  _ projecting  _ the image of a younger Eddie onto the pages. 

It wasn’t. 

It was Eddie- his Eddie, flushed a little pink in the way he got when he was flustered, doe-eyeing the camera. His mouth was just as pink as his cheeks and hanging open just a bit, and Richie spent so much time looking at his face, he almost forgot to look at the rest of him-  _ all  _ of the rest of him, most of all of the rest of him, because thank god, this was not where he was seeing Eddie’s dick for the first time. Narrow avoidance, though, only because of the artful drapery of the fugly pink fur- rug? blanket?- monstrosity they had barely draped over the area, which let Richie see everything  _ except  _ his dick. 

God. He couldn’t even fucking  _ think  _ about Eddie’s dick right now. Not that he let himself think about Eddie’s dick too much, anyway. He’d think about being in love with Eddie all day long, and maybe about the fucking phenominal sex they could be having every so often, mostly when he was lonely on the road, because there was a weird line when it came to being in love with your childhood friend, and that line was drawn exactly on the other side of “jerking off thinking about him while he’s sharing an apartment with you.” 

Speaking of, Richie’s dick went from being passively interested in the goings on to standing at attention like a goddamn car lot flag pole the second he had enough brain cells to process what he was seeing. He was  _ achingly  _ hard, now, and at the same time frozen in place, free hand now gripping his leg so hard he was going to leave a bruise. He couldn’t do anything but stare, heart racing like he was running a marathon. 

It was the best thing he’d ever fucking seen, and he needed to  _ stop seeing it _ . 

“Hey, Richie?” 

Eddie’s voice outside his door jumped him into action, and Richie dropped the magazine like it was burning him. “Uh- yeah?” His voice broke on ‘yeah’, and he really,  _ really _ sounded like a kid whose mom was two seconds from walking in on him jerking it. 

Eddie, for his part, didn’t seem to pick up on it- or, more likely, he was just fucking polite enough not to call him out. “You coming out so we can go eat or what, dude?” 

_ Fuck _ . Richie had been so caught up in a past where  _ Edward fucking Kaspbrak,  _ world’s stuffiest man and love of his life, had  _ posed for a gay porn magazine  _ that he had forgotten about the present where said childhood sweetheart was expect him to get dinner. “Oh, for sure.” He’d managed to get control of his voice, because he was a  _ goddamn professional _ . “Just give me a second, man, I’m not decent.” 

“You’ve never been decent in your life,” Eddie huffed. “But, fine. Be out in, like, five minutes or I’m gonna eat without you.”

Richie waited until he heard Eddie’s footsteps disappear to exhale, and then it was just him and- well, him and  _ Eddie _ again, still staring up at him from the centerfold with a look that Richie had barely ever even dared to imagine he could pull off. 

Fuck. 

He gave himself a few moments to breathe, eyes squeezed shut least the air he was just getting back into his lungs be stolen again, and he flipped the magazine closed before he opened them again. This was- definitely crossing the line he’d drawn for himself, and he should probably just throw the whole thing out before he jumped over the line and directly into something dangerous. 

But. 

But, he couldn’t bring himself to- for a lot of reasons, really, chief among them the fact that he knew having a missing issue in his back catalogue would drive him absolutely fucking insane, and totally, totally, not because he couldn’t imagine ever getting rid of the only proof he had of the divine fact that Eddie could have “fuck me” eyes. Totally. 

So, instead of the trash can, or the back of his closet in a box where the rest of the issues went, Richie played into the full fantasy of being in college again and shoved the magazine under his mattress, resolving to deal with this later. The rest of his five minutes was spent trying to will his dick to sit back down by any means necessary- mostly by thinking about Eddie’s mom, which was an irony that Richie was too wired to appreciate in the moment. 

Thank fucking  _ god  _ they weren’t going out or anything. Eddie had just picked up cooking in his quest for independence, and liked to show off whenever Richie was home, which Richie didn’t mind in the slightest. He’d survived the last several decades on his own on Hot Pockets and takeout whenever he was home, and room service or fast food when he wasn’t. 

Eddie cooked, and Richie did the dishes. It was disgustingly domestic, and thinking about the concept rather than the action actually made Richie  _ happy  _ to do it, instead of mildly irritated. Love was a hell of a drug. 

He couldn’t really focus on the food tonight, though, because every time he looked up across the table- because Eddie made them eat at the  _ table _ , like what the fuck was that?- he was faced with Eddie, who hadn’t changed enough in twenty years for Richie to be able to  _ not  _ see flashes of his pink lips and flushed cheeks every time he saw him.

It was like being haunted by a sexy, sexy ghost. 

“And I- Jesus, dude, are you even listening to me?” Richie blinked when Eddie waved a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Richie; you look like an idiot, man. What’s up with you, is there something on my face?” 

“Uh,” Richie said, trying to say anything but ‘ _ hey, you used to be, like. Hot, in college or whatever’,  _ but obviously not reacting fast enough for Eddie’s tastes. 

“I already got the fucking mole checked, it isn’t cancer,” he said, and  _ that  _ was Richie’s Eddie, vision snapping back into focus. 

“I’m not staring at your fucking  _ mole _ , dude,” Richie said, rolling his eyes. “Also, aren’t they only like… cancerous if they have hair in them, or something?” 

“ _ No _ ,” Eddie said, and sucked in a breath, and that launched them into a conversation- well. A tirade from Eddie with color commentary from Richie, really, and that was more like their normal dinner conversations, enough that Richie could phase out his lust for past Eddie and focus on the warm fuzzies that having  _ this  _ Eddie in his life gave him.

Dinner and dishes done and conversation still rolling, though they’d cycled past about twenty different topics now, they moved on to the post dinner ritual of turning on the TV and not-watching Wheel of Fortune in favor of not-cuddling on the same couch, even though there was  _ definitely  _ a perfectly fine recliner in the room. This was the kind of thing that made Richie think that maybe, just maybe he had a chance in hell in all this- but, fuck if he was going to make the first move, so he just sat there with his arm flung over the back of the couch, hand dangling just so it brushed Eddie’s shoulder, and pretended he gave a shit about whatever Pat Sajak was saying, and wasn’t just watching Eddie. 

Because Eddie was double his age at heart, Wheel of Fortune faded into Jeopardy, and when Jeopardy faded into whatever the fuck came after, right on cue, Eddie yawned. “I’m going to bed,” he said, and Richie nodded. 

“I’ll probably turn in, too,” he said, and they both just sat there for a few seconds after Richie turned off the TV, something-  _ something-  _ lingering between them. This part, too, was part of the norm; there was something one of them wanted to say, needed to do, but Richie was too chicken shit to be the one to do it, and Eddie was- well, Richie wasn’t sure what Eddie was, scared, nervous, too freshly out of an intensely shitty relationship, but what it boiled down to was Eddie yawning in again, breaking the moment, and saying “g’night, Richie,” as he got up, and went to his room. 

Normally, Richie’d just sit there for a few moments and stew in the moment he let pass  _ again _ , but tonight, he only had to sit there for a second before he remembered what he’d been trying to get out of his head since dinner. 

He felt like a burglar in his own home, tiptoeing back to his room and closing the door. He thought about keeping the light off, for a second, but flipped it on at the last second. If he was going to be crossing the fucking line like this, he may as well be able to fucking see it in its full glory. 

He settled onto the bed and pulled the magazine out from under his mattress in one smooth move, flipping it open to the page without having to search, like the universe knew  _ exactly  _ what kind of self destruction he was looking to do. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he looked down on the exhale, Eddie was staring back at him, legs splayed and back arched artfully, like he’d just been waiting for him this whole time. 

“Hey there,” Richie said to an empty fucking room, and too much brainpower had already switched to dick power for him to be embarrased about it. It didn’t take too long for him to get fully hard again- because it was fucking  _ Eddie _ , of course it didn’t, and Richie wasn’t in the business of teasing himself when it came to jerking off, so he inelegantly wriggled out of his sweatpants and boxers, kicking them to the bottom of the bed. 

It was a little awkward, balancing the magazine in one hand while he had the other on his dick, but Richie was a pro at it, at this point. Normally, though, he’d only look at the magazine for a bit before he let it fall aside, letting his mind do the rest of the work. Tonight, he couldn’t make himself put it down, though, because putting it down would mean he wouldn’t see how fucking  _ right  _ Eddie looked, laying back on that stupid, ugly pink fur, arms draped above his head and legs spread wide.

“ _ Fuck _ .” He didn’t say it very loud, but Richie felt like he could hear it echo through the empty room. This was going to be the shortest fucking jerk off session he’d had in maybe his entire life, but, that should really be expected, considering the circumtances, and- 

“Hey, Richie, do you think I should get this mole checked again, because I really-” 

The world stopped. 

Eddie- real Eddie,  _ now _ Eddie- was standing in the doorway. Fuck,  _ normally _ , he’d knock, but Richie guessed the mole thing was really fucking bothering him, because he’s just slammed it open and given Richie  _ no  _ time to react. They both froze, when they locked eyes, and Eddie realized what was going on, and his face skipped right past the pretty pink Richie’d just been looking at to  _ bright  _ fucking red. “Oh. You’re- busy.” 

“Yeah.” Richie’s hand had  _ not  _ moved from his dick, nor had he moved to put the magazine down, or cover himself up, or anything a normal fucking person would do. Instead, his gaze flicked from Eddie, down the magazine, and back. “I, uh- sorry.” 

“Oh my fucking god,” Eddie said, and Richie felt his heart jump into his throat for a second as Eddie started moving towards him, and- laughing? “ _ Dude,  _ is that a fucking magazine? What is it, the fucking  _ sixties _ ?” 

“Fuck you!” Richie was finally moving, now, but it was mostly to jerk the magazine out of Eddie’s reach when he reached for it. Eddie didn’t seem to care that his fucking dick was out, so Richie was gonna ignore it for the time being, and hope it went away. “It’s artful, man.” 

“You’re such a grandpa,” Eddie snorted, managing to snatch the magazine away from Richie and dance just out of reach before he could snatch it back, flipping through the pages. “Is this fucking  _ vintage  _ magazine porn? Richie, you’ve got to be fucking kidding m-” 

The last part of the sentence died on Eddie’s tongue as he reached the centerfold, and he went pale as a ghost. “I, uh-” 

“You looked, like... Really fucking good.” That was the wrong thing to say, the  _ stupidest  _ thing Richie could’ve possibly said, but he spoke before he thought. 

“It- college, man.” Eddie didn’t seem like he was entirely in himself as he spoke, still staring down at the page. “I… I wanted to feel hot. So.” 

Eddie’s voice was so fucking  _ small  _ when he said it, it made Richie’s chest ache. “Wanted to  _ feel _ hot?” he asked, sitting up a bit. “Dude. Eds, you  _ are  _ hot.” 

“I mean, I used to look pretty good- I worked out and shit.” Eddie shrugged, finally putting the magazine down, setting it on Richie’s bedside table. 

“I didn’t say ‘ _ used to’ _ ,” Richie said, using his single ounce of courage for the rest of the year. “I said you  _ are  _ hot.” 

“Present tense?” Eddie’s gaze snapped from the carpet to Richie’s face, brow furrowed, seemingly searching it for... something. Richie wasn’t sure if he found it or not. “You think so?”    
  


“I’ve always thought so,” he said, because he had, and if he was being honest, he may as well go the whole way with it. Fuck the line. 

“ _ Fuck _ , Richie.” The two words left Eddie’s mouth in one gust of breath, and before Richie could add anything onto his confession, Eddie had surged forward, and kissed him, hands on either side of Richie’s face, holding him like he was something precious. It was honestly a very sweet kiss, for how inelegant it was, and the fact that Richie’s dick was still out, several decades worth of longing and things unsaid pushed from both sides. 

When they pulled away, they were breathless, and Eddie’s forehead was resting against Richie’s. “You were really gonna sit here and jerk off to my fucking picture while I was a room away, huh?” he teased, and even if Richie knew it for what it was, guilt wormed its way into the pit of his stomach. 

“The fuck else was I supposed to do?” he shot back. “Knock on your door and go, ‘hey, Spaghetti-O, I know you’re in the process of doing your old lady skin care routine so that you can pass out by ten like some kind of retiree, but I need you to know that I found your ancient nudes, and they dredged up every fantasy I’ve ever had about you and then some. Thoughts?’” 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Eddie said, and then, “You’ve had a lot of fantasies about me?” 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever fantasized about,” Richie said, and he hated how fucking honst he was being about that. “Even when I didn’t know it was you, it was always- the shape of you, the flash.”

“You’re not allowed to be that romantic when your fucking hard on is digging into my hip, man,” Eddie huffed, and then he kissed Richie again. This time, there was nothing sweet about it, all heat, biting and sucking, and when Eddie pulled away to kiss down Richie’s neck, there was nothing he could do but bite back a moan. “And,  _ yeah _ , you should’ve fucking come to me. You don’t need the fucking magazine when you have the real thing.” 

“Have I got it?” Richie asked, and he wasn’t even sure what he was asking, but Eddie stopped pawing at his shirt for a second to give him the answer that he needed, anyway. 

“Richie,” he said, deadly serious and flushed the same shade of pink he’d been in the picture, now. “You’ve always had me. Now, take your fucking shirt off.” 

Richie didn’t have to be told twice, and by the time he got the rest of the way undressed and retrieved his glasses from where he’d flung them across the bed in the process, he was treated to Eddie having done the same, stepping out of his sleep pants, silky, stupid, monogramed button down hanging off his shoulders. “ _ God _ .” He couldn’t help the outburst, and it made Eddie look over to him with a smile- no, a fucking  _ smirk _ , crawling back onto the bed like some kind of stupid sex kitten from an eighties porno and letting the shirt drop to the floor in the same move. 

“Like what you see?” 

“You already know I do, asshole,” Richie said, rolling his eyes at the line and running his hands down Eddie’s sides and back up again in the same motion. “You’re fucking  _ hot _ , Eddie.” 

“I like hearing you say it,” Eddie said, surging to kiss him again. He’d settled on Richie’s lap, sort of, straddling his hips, and it was fucking  _ rewarding  _ to feel that he was just as turned on as Richie was, even if Richie couldn’t bring himself to look down at his dick yet. That was a shade too far; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover. 

“You’re fucking hot,” he said again, sort of mumbled into Eddie’s shoulder as he pressed a kiss there, and started working his way down. “I’ll keep saying it, then.” 

“You’re-  _ shit _ , Richie, we’re not fucking  _ kids,  _ you can’t just go giving me hickies all ove-  _ oh _ , you’re probably the only person I’ve heard it from in, like- a decade,” Eddie’s head was tipped back, eyes fluttering shut, and it was such a pretty scene Richie almost didn’t process what he’d heard. 

“No one’s told you you were hot in  _ ten fucking years _ ?” It sounded so impossible to Richie; who the  _ fuck  _ could miss all this, even with the not at all provacative polos and button downs Eddie usually wore- or. Well,  _ Richie  _ found them provocative, but he found everything about Eddie appealing in one way or another. 

“I-  _ fuck _ \- was married,” Eddie said. “And we weren’t, like… that kinda couple.” 

“Her loss,” Richie said. “My gain. You’re so fucking hot.” 

“Your gain,” Eddie echoed, and he was  _ smiling _ , so fucking gentle that Richie forgot how to breathe, and also the fact that he was supposed to be ravishing him. “Do you, uh. Wanna fuck me?” 

Richie’s brain stopped working. “Do I  _ want  _ to fuck you? Eddie. Eddie, I think if I don’t fuck you, I’ll die.” 

“You won’t  _ die _ ,” Eddie huffed, even though Richie wanted to protest when he removed himself from his lap. “Do you have, like. Lube and shit?” 

  
“First drawer on the left.” Richie made a vague gesture towards his dresser, and readjusted to give Eddie more room on the bed when he came back. 

“I haven’t fucking done this in years,” Eddie when he found what he was looking for, tossing the bottle at Richie. “So, you’re gonna have to, like. Be patient.” 

“I’m so patient,” Richie said, fumbling to catch it and then fucking up his first few attempts at getting the cap open in his haste, undercutting his whole statement. “I’m like fucking Buddha, man. Did you- want to grab a condom?” 

“I checked, yours are expired,” Eddie said, settling back onto the bed. “Which tells me, like, how little sex you’ve been having. We can, like… make a run, if you really want one? But- I’m clean, and I… if you are, then.” 

“I am,” Richie said, maybe a bit too quickly, because the idea of raw dogging Eddie was the closest he’d had to a religious epiphany in his whole life. “I- am.” 

“Good,” Eddie said, the word coming out like a sigh as Richie repositioned himself once more, looming over him to steal a kiss. “Then, do you wanna do this part, or should I?” 

“Can I?” Richie was getting gift after gift tonight, feeling like Christmas goddamn Day when Eddie nodded. He shifted down again, getting probably  _ too  _ sloppy with the lube as he coated his fingers. Whatever, he’d change his sheets later. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off of Eddie’s face as he pushed his first finger in- slow, so fucking slow, because he was being  _ patient _ , and gentle. The pink was back in his cheeks, and his eyes were half lidded, eyelashes fluttering every time Richie’s finger moved, small noises Richie wasn’t even sure he knew he was making falling from his lips. “Fuck,  _ Richie _ .” 

“You good?” Richie was breathless- he’d been breathless a lot in this; maybe he should ask if Eddie had any of his old inhalers lying around. 

“Am I  _ good _ ?” Eddie almost sounded like he was going to laugh, but Richie must’ve hit  _ something  _ good before he could, because the noise turned into a drawn out moan. “ _ Jesus _ , RIchie. Another- another, and harder, and fucking do that  _ again _ .” 

“You’re so bossy,” Richie snorted, but he did what he was told because he kinda  _ liked  _ that Eddie was bossy. 

Two more fingers and several minutes later, Eddie’s eyes looked like they had almost rolled back in his head, and he was tugging Richie’s hair. “Okay, you’ve- you’ve gotta fuck me now, or I think I’m gonna lose it.” 

“Losing it is the point,” Richie said, even as he drew his fingers back. The whimper Eddie let out when he did was  _ intoxicating _ . 

“Not before I’ve had your dick in me,” he countered. “I’ve waited  _ way  _ too fucking long for this, and I’m not gonna be waiting until I get it up again because I came like a fucking college kid before we got the main event.” 

“Then here comes the show, baby,” Richie said, shifting once again. He had to manhandle Eddie a little bit so that they were both positioned properly, handing him a pillow to put under his hips because neither of them were fucking twenty somethings anymore, and he was realistic about the level of crazy they could be getting here.

Eddie rolled his eyes as he readjusted himself. “Don’t call your dick ‘the show,’” he said. “Even if it’s- Jesus, Richie, where do you even fucking put that thing?” 

“I’ve never exaggerated a big dick joke in my life,” Richie said, a little smug because  _ fuck _ yeah, finally, some  _ respect.  _

“I guess not,” Eddie said. “But, having a big dick doesn’t mean you know how to fucking use it.” 

Richie’s eyes narrowed. “That a challenge, Eds?” 

“Just an observation,” Eddie shot back, laying back on the bed and looking up at Richie with a smile that was  _ definitely _ a challenge. “Prove me wrong.” 

Richie took that as his cue to do exactly that, lining up and pushing in- just a bit, at first, small thrusts of his hip before Eddie kicked- literally, fucking  _ kicked _ , the asshole- him into action. “We just spent twenty fucking minutes working me up to this, Richie,” he said. “Fuck me like you mean it,  _ now _ .” 

“I’m trying to be a  _ gentleman _ , so you can sit pretty in your desk chair tomorrow,” Richie said. 

“You can be a gentleman next time,” Eddie said- and, holy shit,  _ next time _ . “This time-  _ fuck me like you mean it _ .” 

Richie didn’t have to be told twice. He was really, really considering maybe starting going to church again, with all the religious experience he was having this night, but he could mull that thought  _ after  _ he finished processing how fucking  _ good _ Eddie looked, gripping Richie’s sheets as he rocked into him, slow at first and then building. “ _ Jesus Christ _ , you’re fucking phenomenal.” 

“Stop using words with more than three syllables,” Eddie said, eyes fluttering shut and then open again, locking with Richie’s and not moving. “Your dick is turning off my brain.” 

“Phenomenal,” Richie said. “Effervescent. Showstopping, beautiful, an absolute fucking knock-out-” 

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Eddie moaned, tugging Richie down and kissing him. “You’re already fucking me, you don’t have to flatter me.” 

“It’s not flattery if you’re fucking  _ everything _ ,” Richie said, and that got Eddie’s eyes to widen.

“Everything?” he asked, and his voice was way, way too gentle for the moment. It seemed like an important question, for being only one word. 

“Everything,” he echoed, sure, more sure than he’d ever been about anything in his life. “Always been, Eds.” 

“You can’t just  _ say _ that shit, Richie,” Eddie said, but he kissed Richie again, and when he pulled away, added: “Say it again, anyway.” 

“You’re everything,” Richie repeated, and it became a mantra. “You’re everything, Eds,” like he was trying to burrow the idea so deep in Eddie’s mind he’d never fucking doubt it again, for better or for worse. They were fucking  _ clinging  _ to each other, now, and Richie wasn’t sure when this had turned from fucking to romance novel love making, but he wasn’t about to stop it. There was no way he could detach his feelings from this, if any of the shit he’d been saying didn’t make that obvious on its own. 

It only took a few more minutes of  _ everything, you’re fucking everything, you’ve always been everything _ for Eddie to tighten around Richie, whole body curling like a spring when he came between them. “ _ Richie,  _ Richie, holy fucking shit-” 

“I’ve got you,” Richie said, sounding wrecked, because he was fucking close, too- he’d been close  _ before  _ Eddie’d come in, it was a wonder he hadn’t already blown it like a virgin- and he needed Eddie to know it. “I got you, I got you.” 

“ _ Richie _ .” Eddie sounded just as wrecked, and it just took one look at his face- pink lips, pink cheeks, doe eyes blown wide under his lashes- to push him over the edge, coming with Eddie’s name on his lips. 

“Fuck.” His arms gave out, as he came down, and he flopped on top of Eddie. “ _ Fuck _ , I think I’m dying.” 

“Don’t die with your dick still in me, idiot,” Eddie huffed, nudging him until he shifted and hissing as Richie pulled out. “ _ God _ , I forgot this part.” 

“The afterglow?” Richie flopped on the other side of the bed now, and was pleased when Eddie shifted and followed, tucking himself against Richie’s side. 

  
“The part where I need to fucking shower,” Eddie said, making no move to get up. 

“Do it later,” Richie said. “I’ll hop in with you, save water.” 

“If you hop in with me, neither of us are getting clean,” Eddie snorted, and god, if Richie hadn’t  _ just  _ came, that would’ve done some  _ shit  _ to him. 

“All the more reason,” he said, tucking Eddie a bit more securely into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of his head, getting a little bold. 

“Did you mean all that stuff?” Eddie asked after a beat of silence. “About-” 

“You’re everything,” Richie said, and he could feel Eddie’s breath hitching without even looking at him, because he wasn’t brave enough to do  _ that  _ right now. “Always been. It’s… yeah.” 

“Always?” Eddie sounded like he couldn’t believe it, which was stupid, because of  _ course _ it was true. 

“Which part of that did you miss, Eds?” Richie asked. “The part earlier where I told you you were the only guy I’d ever fantasized about, or the way I used to follow you around like a puppy when we were kids, or-” 

“Shut up,” Eddie said. “It’s- you were  _ my  _ everything, Richie, so please, give me a damn minute to adjust to the reality that I haven’t been  _ stupid  _ for thinking that maybe you felt a  _ little  _ the same the whole time.” 

“Take a minute, then,” Richie said, because,  _ oh _ , he didn’t know what to do with that, so he probably needed a minute, too. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Neither am I,” Eddie said, and that made Richie relax a little bit. “I’m staying here, tonight, by the way. I’m not sure my legs work.” 

“That good?” Richie hummed, smug, and Eddie didn’t answer, but the kiss he pressed to Richie’s shoulder did for him. “Told you, I’m fucking  _ good. _ ”

“One time doesn't count,” Eddie said. “You’re gonna have to give a repeat performance.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna,” Richie said. “A few- later. Probably not tonight.” 

“Probably not tonight,” Eddie agreed. “But- soon.”   
  


“I’ll fuck you every night I’m home if you let me, Eds,” Richie said, and sounded a lot more lovesick than he intended. 

“You’re taking me to dinner, first,” Eddie said. “Nice dinner, that I’m not cooking.” 

“Deal,” Richie said. “It’s a date.” 

“A date.” He turned to look at Eddie, then, and he was grinning like Richie had just done something amazing. “Good.” 

Richie  _ had  _ to kiss him for that. “I’m getting that picture framed, by the way,” he said as they both tucked in for the night. “We can hang it in the living room.” 

“We have  _ people over,  _ Richie,” Eddie said. “You’re not putting my nudes in the fucking living room.”

“They’re tasteful!” Richie protested. “And, like. That wasn’t a no on the framing.” 

“It’s a good picture,” Eddie said. “But, not in the living room.” 

“My office it is, then,” Richie said. “I’ll hang it right behind me, so when I do Skype interviews, it’s there.” 

“You’re the absolute  _ worst _ ,” Eddie groaned, but he kissed Richie again, so Richie decided he was gonna take that as ‘maybe.’ 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @neiboltwell y'all i'm open for prompts. love u thank u.


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